When The Running Stops
by laprotectioneternelle
Summary: A series of stories told throughout the lives of Seamus Finnigan and Kaelyn Grey.
1. Chapter 1

**When The Running Stops**

 **A/N:** This is dedicated to _steffes0_ in payment for the beautiful gift of words she bestowed upon me, entitled _Let's Run And Never Look Back_. I hope it does you justice, and I hope it shows Seamus just how bad things COULD have been, if Kaelyn did not love him unconditionally.

 **A/N II:** This version of Seamus is based off of the minstrations of _steffes0_ as executed in her beautiful rpg forum. If anyone wants a glimpse into that crazy world, just pm me :) It should be said that in that forum, this tragic turn of events never saw the light of day, because Kaelyn cannot live without Seamus. He is her one and only. Always.

 **DISCLAIMER:** Because all Rowling told us was that Seamus has a particular proclivity for pyrotechnics, and that his dad was a muggle, and his mum was a witch.

 **SUMMARY:** I never meant for any of this to happen. I never meant for you to find me. But here we are. I WISH I could say it wasn't what it looked like but…we both know that's a lie. I never could lie to you, Seamus Finnigan. Not ever.

* * *

I never meant for any of this to happen. I never meant for you to find me. But here we are. I WISH I could say it wasn't what it looked like but…we both know that's a lie. I never could lie to you, Seamus Finnigan. Not ever.

It was me in the back room that night. I overheard you talking to the barmaid when you came in, just as she was preparing to close. She tried to offer you the drink that you favored, and instead, you chose water. Pure, clear, un-inhibiting water. Why could that not have been your choice from the beginning? If not for me… It doesn't matter now I suppose. You dug your grave, and I dug mine; and here we shall lie, so very close together and yet so very far apart.

I know you heard the sound of music coming from the back quarters of the pub. Perhaps you thought it was the wireless, but I can assure you, it was not. That transgression was my own. I had abandoned you in the Ward, and fled as far away from the castle as I could get in the hopes that some time apart would help us clear our heads. I think time apart only suffocated the fondness in our hearts.

I loved you Seamus. I love you still. But you and I are like water and oil. We can dance around each other forever, but we will never truly mix. I begged you to stop drinking. To have faith in yourself. To have faith in the undying love that my very soul had for you. But it was never good enough was it? I was never good enough. I pushed you too hard to be something that you are not, and for that I am eternally sorry. I wish it could have turned out different.

I wish that night in the Infirmary when we were given a choice had turned out different. We would still be young and carefree…maybe we'd be drunks together. But the potion didn't work, and I know the majority of me is glad, and so you were forced to face the knowledge that in just a few months' time you were going to be a father. But you're not ready. I don't know if you ever will be. And I'm sorry.

Charlie WAS…just an old friend. I knew him from when we lived in America. He was my best friend for a year and a half. His father worked closely with mine, and so there were days on end we would be left in a hotel room with a nanny. We moved when I was 7 and I didn't hear from him again…until that night I happened upon him in the dark corner of the pub. We talked for hours, and he was the same Charlie I remembered.

He'd graduated early. Accepted a job as a liaison between Britain and the States. Detested alcohol but visited the pub for the food. He loved shepherd's pie. It was never meant to be anything, but when he asked if we could go somewhere more private to talk, I had no reason to pause. It was just catching up between two friends. I told him everything. About you. About us. About the baby, and the war, and…me. And he listened. He never judged, just took the facts and analyzed them so that I had a clearer picture. He only saw the good in you as well. But he saw that you did not yet love yourself, and helped me to understand that you could not possibly love me, when you were so consumed with feelings of inadequacy and self-loathing.

We laughed and talked. He played the piano. I sang. He tucked me in to his bed and told me it was too late and too cold for me to leave, that he would sleep on the floor. I found it ridiculous of course. We had shared a bed when we were little…how different could it be? But I was vulnerable. I NEEDED to be needed. And Charlie had all the right words. He played my heart as deftly as he played a piano. Flawless in his execution of notes.

I cannot say that I regret my actions that night. Only that I regret you waking to find me quite literally in the arms of another man. And so when I looked upon you as one would upon a stranger, it's because that is exactly what you were. You were not, in that moment, the man that I had given everything to. You were an empty shell of someone I had thought I knew. And while I cannot blame you solely for driving me into the arms of another man, I can in good conscious lay half of the blame at your feet.

Charlie WAS an old friend. He was my best friend. He still is. And he will make a good father…to your son. We are to be married in the spring, just before Mattieus is born. Charlie picked the name. He's no idea how much it means to me. It reminds me of friends. Of what I once had.

I wish I could go back to that night. I wish I had had the strength to stay by your side. To give you a reason to change. But we are all flesh, and in that moment, I was just as weak as you.

One day I WILL seek you out. I will tell you I'm sorry. And maybe, I'll let you see this precious being that we have created. But for now I will lock you away in my heart, and hope that one day you will no longer find it necessary to run.


	2. Chapter 2

**All rights remain.**

 **We'll start with that default opening line.**

 **Kaelyn is not my OC—she belongs to you, distorted-me. I made this as a different point of view than Kaelyn's and I wrote out Seamus's moments in Hogsmeade that night. Enjoy.**

 **By the way, this is only staying temporarily.**

* * *

Seamus could only stare as he watched the retreating back of his life walk away from him. The weight in his chest seemed to have dropped to his stomach and suddenly he felt like Atlas, who bore the onerous weight of the world on his shoulders—left to endure it alone and all he could do was bellow and spit curses at the deities above.

Overwhelming despair hit him as effectively as a brick to the head was—and then it was replaced by sudden rage and anger—bitterness that swept through his ragged being as all the fingers were pointing at him.

"This was not all me fault," Seamus insisted to himself. "This wasn't."

"I dunno what to say," another said.

"Say something!" Seamus pleaded, looking around. "Or do you all blame me?"

There were murmurs around him from the others but he occluded everything and rose to his feet moving tensely.

"Fine!" he barked angrily.

 _Where was Dean when he needed him?_ His best mate would take his side in a heartbeat.

Seamus yanked open the door, ignoring everyone's protests and slammed it shut behind him for good measure. This would not be all pinned on him and as much as his mind was telling him to pick up another bottle and down the entire thing, his heart was too exhausted and telling him to find her to right this wrong.

"No," he murmured to himself. "Not this time..."

He looked around the empty corridor, confused on where he should be going. He hadn't the slightest idea where the girl went so he looked to his left then to his right and made his executive decision to make a left turn.

His head was splitting right down the middle, screaming how badly he failed and how he could do nothing right. Seamus was limping badly but he needed to abscond, he needed to occlude everything. The reasonable little voice in his head was telling him to find Kaelyn and apologize; however, the defiant voice in his head was telling him this was not all his fault.

"I'm sorry for breaking your heart," he said to no one.

The silence was nearly unbearable.

"Say something," he whispered.

Seamus stopped walking and began to contemplate. His lethargic mind began thinking of all the places where she would have run off. The Boathouse would have been his first choice, the Astronomy Tower next, and perhaps the lake would have been his third; albeit, something was tugging him in a different direction.

He ignored the questioning glances strays gave him at the weird hobbling he was moving around like. Seamus wrapped himself tighter around his black robe and ducked his head as he slipped outside through an arch in the ancient wall. His legs screamed as he continued to walk and his entire abdomen felt like it was on fire. Yet, through it all, he continued to walk.

The wind bit and the cold snaked an icy hand right down his throat and hit him hard in his lungs. He could not believe he was heading right back to the place that started it all. He paused his trek through the thick snow and looked up and the signs. His quisling mind sent depressing thoughts spiraling through his head, fooling him and roiling his emotions.

He bowed his head against the wind and pushed on, deciding it was going to be worth all the misery he went through just to get his aching body down here. He raised his arm and shielded his eyes from the wind as if it was really going to help.

Now he was going through a list of ways to apologize in his head because he knew it would be the only thing to settle the matter. Most of the shops were closed, owners bunking for the night; however, there was one place with the lights dimmed low.

Seamus froze, hoping she would be in there and hoping he did not make this trek down here for nothing. He counted to three and tried lifting his feet but found he could not. He looked down; there was no magic holding him back, it was only himself.

"Move, traitors," he said to his feet.

Then his left foot obeyed the angry command, lifting ever so slowly and landed a foot apart from his right. With a sigh, he glared at his right foot until it did the same thing. He had made it a step farther and he felt like he was going to pass out.

Heaving a sigh, he raised his hand and grabbed the handle. For the next few moments, all he could do was stare at the door as if it was somehow talking to him. He would have stayed like that the entire night but the cold was pushing him forward.

He pushed the door open and breathed in the warm in discrepancy with the bitter wind. He slammed the door shut and brushed the snow off his slacks. He dug his hands deeper into his robe's pockets, wishing he had changed into clothing that was more appropriate for the winter.

The owner of the little pub nodded in his general direction, evidently not caring he was much too young to even set foot in a pub. However, upon further inspection, he saw no one. His heart sank as he plopped himself down in one of the chairs. He knew the owner would not care if he drank himself to death . . . again and it was so natural to raise his hand.

"I reckon you came back for a drink?" the owner asked.

"Can I get a firewhisk—"

He stopped in mid-sentence, mentally cursing his name and all things divine. He was not going to fall into that trap a second time around. His body, having expelled most of the alcohol from before, was still writhing in discomfort.

"Never mind," he corrected himself. "Can I get a water?"

"Do you want it spiked?" the owner asked.

"No," Seamus said, knitting his eyebrows in confusion, "no, just . . . just regular water."

"Sobering up, are we?"

Seamus just laughed nervously.

Did everyone want him drunk again? He shook his head and sat back in the chair, elbow resting on the tabletop whilst rubbing his head wearily; he stretched out his legs, willing them to work well enough to get him back to the castle.

"Here," the owner said and flicked her wand.

When his water came, he sniffed to see if it smelled anything remotely like alcohol. When he deemed it safe, he began downing it, realizing just how thirsty he was. His eyes closed as the water soothed his arid throat. He set the cup back down and rubbed a hand over his eyes wearily.

"I didn't spike it—if you don't want alcohol, I won't waste it on you," the owner said with a snort.

"Message received. Do you mind if I bunk here?" Seamus asked the owner.

"The backroom's occupied," the owner replied, using a rag to dry mugs. "And for once, it's not you in there."

"I'm rarely in there," Seamus said in his defense.

"Sure," the owner snorted and glared at him with her sharp eyes. "And I'm not a witch."

Seamus rolled his eyes exasperatedly, finding how bad he honestly was at arguing when he knew from the start he was wrong. He just angrily sipped at his water for it was too cold now to drink in big quantities.

"Can I just sleep on one of these benches?" he asked after a little pause of silence.

"I don't care," she said in an impatient tone. "I'm closing up but stay if you want. If you weren't a regular here, I wouldn't be half as nice."

"I'm touched," Seamus said with a snort.

"How old are you?" the owner asked, setting the glass on the table and leaning forward.

"I've got a fiancée," Seamus said as he threw his hands up, o _r had a fiancée._

The owner scoffed at his own smugness and threw her rag on the table. She waved lazily and moved to her own back room, locking the door as she went. Seamus huffed irritably and migrated towards one of the benches. He set his glass of water on the table and curled up uncomfortably on one of the benches, noticing how dirty it was.

"Seriously needs work on this place," Seamus said and pulled out his wand. " _Scourgify_."

The little booth around him cleaned itself enough for Seamus to lay back down, feeling less grossed out by the joint. He closed his eyes and forced himself to fall asleep albeit his mind was not done going through its wild philosophy exercise.

 _~Seamus came stumbling to a shaking halt at the edge of Hogsmeade, away from the prying eyes of everyone else. He brought with him several bottles of hard liquor, whiskey, scotch, and vodka. If he were going to drink, he might as well drink a variety. His mind went to his father and his feet took him right to the place where Seamus last saw his father on. He was not quite aware of where he was going before he knew where he had taken himself._

 _Seamus kneeled in the snow, right before the bench, not caring how the snow soaked through his slacks and drenched his legs and feet. He did not care about the coldness. He did not care that it was already biting at his skin._

 _"For you, Father," Seamus said, holding up the first bottle._

 _He raised the bottle to his lips and took a sip. The first time it burned right through him, making him spit it out. The red alcohol splattered on the ground and created an aesthetic painting in the snow as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand._

 _"Sorry," he muttered._

 _He tried again, this time managing to swallow the offending drink. The first few sips were hard to keep down but he closed his eyes and pretended the alcohol was water and soon enough, he was downing it as if it really was water. He squirmed a little at the discomfort but he was still forcing himself to drink._

 _His father was the first thing that came to his mind. It was just another painful reminder how annoying he was. So many others had it far worse than him but they were not drinking themselves into a drunken stupor. He was coward, just like his father said he was._

 _He sniffed, talked to himself, drank a little more, and started the cycle over again. He did not realize how much he loved his father until he did not have a chance to tell him so. With a finger, he traced the words: I love you in the snow, not caring that his finger was now freezing, too. The engraving in the snow seemed to engrave right into his heart. With a tear falling, he tipped the bottle to his lips, and then poured the red wine into the words he drew in the snow._

 _Those three words glimmered red as the wine stained it. When he finished, he sniffled and sat back on his heels, looking at the handy work he did with just a bottle of alcohol. He tried not letting out a sob and pressed the back of his hand to his mouth to keep himself from crying out._

 _He stood up, brushing the snow off his slacks. He walked around his masterpiece and sat on the cold stone bench. Those words, reading them upside down, looked like nothing but big lies. He hated the way they seemed to mock him, just lying there in the snow, dead and cold as the winter . . . as his father._

 _In a fit of grief, he threw himself off the bench and kicked away the words, sending the red snow flying in all directions. He watched as it dissipated, sending some here and there. Seamus shook his head, cursing, and sat back down. He looked at the mess he made at his feet and felt tears well up in his eyes for there was nothing but a smeared mess of once was his feelings._

 _"I'm sorry," Seamus said to no one in particular._

 _At his second bottle, he settled himself on the bench, drawing his knees up to his chest as he drank away to numb his pain. His thoughts went from to his father to Kaelyn, the Elven girl he was losing. He felt a particular pang of agony in his sternum and he quickly downed some of the clear vodka. He buried his face in his knees; he was killing her . . . the one thing he loved, he was killing. He looked at the star-flecked sky and raised a hand, pointing upward._

 _"Look, it is Orion," he whispered._

 _He cast his gaze forward and took another sip. He fiddled with the ring on his finger as he looked at his hands wrapped around his bottle. He could feel the ghosts of handcuffs around his wrists chained to the bottle in his lap. However, he could feel his heart beating for Kaelyn. He closed his eyes, wishing the pain would abate. He did not want to lose her, he felt physically sick when she broke the news to him. His was in such despair, he could not even think straight._

 _"Okay," he said to himself._

 _He sat in silence without thinking until he finished his second bottle. He tossed it to his side, listening to it ring in the snow. He moved towards the third without hesitation, ready to drown himself in the booze. He winced at the strong smell the alcohol was giving off but he closed his eyes tight and threw his head back, letting the booze fall into his mouth._

 _He forced himself to swallow it. How was he going to explain to Dean what he had done? His heart ached for his best mate as he imagined Dean forced to sing his dirge. It was almost enough to make him throw the bottle but he remembered everything else and kept it to his lips. He wiped his eyes on his sleeves and forced himself to drink more._

 _He could feel it burning his insides but it was still not enough. He clutched his stomach as he drank away until the bottle was half-empty._

 _"Sorry, Dean," he murmured gently._

 _He sat there in silence again until the third bottle was empty and gone. He rubbed his stomach, unable to ignore the raging burn the alcohol was giving him. He tossed his third bottle to the ground and instinctively moved for the fourth. With a little sigh, he opened the fourth and numbly poured some down his throat._

 _He was beyond buzzed, definitely drunk, and probably close to passing out. His mind was hazy and his vision was blurred. It was hard to tell if his heart was pumping quickly because of the amount of alcohol he just consumed or because of the number of depressing thoughts running through his head. Seamus could not tell._

 _With shaking hands, he tipped the bottle back to his lips. Now it was becoming too arduous to think so deeply. All he could think about was the Scotch he was draining. His mind was slowly going blank, losing its memory, as he just sat there in the cold. He willed his brain to think of something creative and deep to brood over but he simply could not. His hands were trembling by now but who really knew if it was from the cold or the alcohol._

 _He got halfway down with the fourth bottle before he started feeling extremely lethargic and very ill. The pain in his chest was consuming him, clawing his internal organs as he fought to pass the chilly air through to his lungs. He looked at the liquid in the bottle and thought to himself, long and hard. With his eyes screwed shut, he lifted the bottle above his mouth and poured it into his mouth albeit spilling a lot of it._

 _He automatically moved to grab the fifth bottle and opened it with ease. Like a machine, he started drinking. With shaking hands, he pulled out a cigarette from his pocket and stuck in his mouth. He pulled out his wand and lit the tip of his wand with a small flame. His hands were shaking badly but he ignited the tip of the cigarette and immediately blew out the smoke._

 _He took a deep breath as the smoke swirled around his lips, playing with his nose. The smell was rancid at first, making his eyes water, but he soon grew accustomed to it. He took another drag, letting the nicotine course through his veins. When he removed the cigarette, he tipped the bottle to his lips. Alcohol and the ash did not mix well for it felt like he was drinking liquid soot._

 _He grimaced as it fell down his throat but ignored it. He took another drag of the cigarette, smiling as the smoke curled around his lips. He flicked off some of the ash and looked forward, trying to remember something he never knew._

 _By the time he finished his fifth bottle, he could no longer sit up. He let the bottle slip from his fingers as he slowly lay back on the bench. He fought to keep his eyes open but the effort hardly seemed worth it. He swallowed, finally resting himself into peace until his mind jolted him awake and he sat bolt upright._

 _He numbly picked up a piece of parchment and his quill and ink bottle. In the neatest scrawl he could manage, he wrote out what was on my his mind. He was a man of few words, finding his actions to be much more efficient. With that, he set the note beside him, pinned it down with an empty bottle, and laid back down, waiting for something to happen._

 _He had no idea how long he had been lying there although he was slipping in and out of unconsciousness as the alcohol took over the blood in his system. Vaguely, he swore he could hear his name screamed by someone but he was not sure if that was his own mere imagination.~_

Seamus woke up with a jolt, temporarily forgetting where he was or what had even happened. With a gasp, he sat up straight, looking around. His glass sat on top of the booth's table and he lay on the booth's bench. His brain still did not want to tell him what occurred but he could hear voices from the back room.

He narrowed his eyes, rubbing his head. He had a wicked hangover but he had no idea what was going on. Most of it was a haze but Seamus shrugged it off and settled back down, looking at his glass of water.

Seamus jumped when he heard a strangely familiar giggle from behind the other door followed by a hearty laugh belonging to a bloke. Before he could eavesdrop any more, the door slowly opened. Seamus jolted and rolled off the bench and underneath the table, letting the awkward angling cover him.

He saw a pair of very nice legs walk past followed by another pair of legs. Both of them were bare so Seamus slowly inched his way outward, taking a swift but good look at who the new company was. His heart hammered as he crawled as silently as he could.

His heart was racing by this point but once he caught sight of who they were, his heart shattered. There she was, his love, his goddess, his life, with someone else. Someone that was not him. She was wrapped in arms that did not belong to him. Why has Life spit on him? Before he knew it, he jumped up, spilling the glass of water on the table.

"What is this?" Seamus said numbly.

Kaelyn did not answer—she merely stared at him as if he was some kind of stranger—although, all he could see was a stranger in her.

"He's an old friend," she said finally.

Even her voice sounded foreign to his ears. Who was this girl?

"An old friend?" Seamus echoed.

"That's right," she said, folding her arms.

Seamus could not believe what he was hearing. He could not bear to look at her. Deep down, something told him he did everything to do deserve this but somewhere more surfaced, he was just bitter. From what he could comprehend, he did not need to hear the answer—he did not even need to ask.

"Okay," he said, throwing his hands up. "I get it—me brain isn't that dulled."

With that, Seamus departed.

His life had walked away from him so why was his heart still beating? Seamus felt cheated and broken—yet he could not explain the roiled thoughts in his head as he walked away from the pub. He was burning inside yet his skin was cold from the wind. He could feel the frozen tears upon his face but he did not bother to wipe them away—it served as a good reminder of what he had all done—he did not want to forget.

She had left him willingly, which meant he could launch himself into the air and free himself, right? He would not have to worry about her or the child if she left him for her "old friend". If Kaelyn pushed him off the cliff, he could finally catch the breeze and fly high and away from the anchor he was drowning in.

Yet, after all these forced happy thoughts, Seamus could feel himself falling but on his own accord. He kept his wings folded tight against him as he willingly plunged downward...all in the name for her. It was bittersweet but in his mind, it was the only thing that made sense at the time.

The first person he wanted to go to was Dean but he, Seamus was for certain, mostly likely preoccupied by another and did not wish to disrupt. However, he needed to talk to someone or he was going to spiral down into something much deeper right to the point where he could not get himself out of. He did not trust himself with his own thoughts any longer. They have proven to be his demon.

"Seamus?"

That voice must have been ringing bells from Heaven above. He recognized it any time of the day. It was Dean Thomas.

"Dean!" Seamus roared.

Dean raced over to his friend and caught him in a tight embrace, not letting go for a solid minute. Seamus was shaking either from the cold or from his stress.

"Dean—Dean—"

Seamus was lost for words.

"Dean, let's run and never look back."

Dean caught Seamus's arm and held him steady as his friend swayed. He scrutinized his best mate with sincerity.

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked.

"Let's run and never look back."

Dean chuckled, taking both his hands to Seamus's shoulder, trying to calm him down.

"I can't just up and leave her," Dean said after a pause. "You cannot just up and leave everything either."

Seamus looked slightly dejected at Dean's quick dismissal of his idea.

"But," Dean chimed after another pause of silence. "I would not object to an impromptu vacation for a week or two."

Seamus's eyes glimmered with tears.

"Really? You'd do that for me?"

"As long as we leave a note, I agree," Dean said with a nod.

"So, we can't leave dramatically without a trace of us?" Seamus asked, feigning pouting.

"No," Dean said with a shake of his head. "But I like your idea. And I get to know what's been going on."

"Deal," Seamus said with ease.

Dean grinned and let his arms drop to his side. With a genuine smile, he motioned to Seamus to follow him. Seamus obliged happily, keeping pace with his friend. Dean sighed contently and stole a sideways glance.

"What?" Seamus asked, catching on.

"Let's run and never look back."


	3. Chapter 3

**All rights remain.  
OC does not belong to me.  
D, this is another story for you.**

 **To and From**

Seamus Finnigan was dressed in a black blazer, dress pants, buttoned down, and tie. He had his head bowed and his hands folded in a silent prayer to Heaven. He pursed his lips as he stood before the casket. He stood in Notre Dame, the greatest church in France still standing, and watched the doors with dead eyes.

"We placed the flowers people have given you by the casket if that is okay," the organizer said.

"That's fine," Seamus said with a nod. He turned his blank eyes on the other. "Thank you."

"Anything," the organizer said with a little nod. "Take care of yourself."

"I will, thank you," Seamus said.

Slowly, one by one, people came up to him in a line to give him their condolences. Seamus nodded politely, keeping his calm demeanor about him as they did. He shook their hands, accepted hugs, and smiled every time they complimented what a life she had. It was as if he was a robot, programmed to react the same to everyone's sorrows and sympathy.

"She really was something, Seamus," one woman said.

"I know," Seamus said with a nod. "She was..."

"She loved you, so much," another man said as he grasped Seamus's hand.

"I know," Seamus said with a nod. "She did..."

"She's in a better place," a mother said, her children clinging to her black dress.

"I know," Seamus said with a nod. "She is..."

More and more people filled the church and pews as they sat down. He looked at each guest, wondering what was going through their head? Were some of them going through as much pain as he was? How long did he have to be brave before he let himself go? How long did he have to wait until he could throw himself across the casket and wish death upon himself?

"She was an extroverted, beautiful, and spirited girl who wanted nothing more than to live life as she wanted. She spoke from the heart...her divine heart..."

Seamus tuned the rest out until he was summoned to speak. The priest had to call his name a few times before Seamus finally looked up and rose to his feet.

He looked down at his note cards he had worked so hard on and shoved them up his sleeve as he walked tot he podium. He never had to talk to such a large crowd with nothing but raw emotions but he was too numb to care.

He looked down at his note cards, hands shaking, and realized he did not like what he wrote. Whatever he wrote then was not warranted to say now.

He spoke softly at first.

"You all come here and tell me it's going to be okay, that she is in a better place, that she is no longer suffering, and how much she loved me..."

He paused, leaning into the microphone a little more.

"I know! Please, talk to me about something I don't know. We all came here today to share our pain, right? Isn't that what these services are for? I did not come here today to share my pain over this with you."

He tilted his chin up at everyone.

"I cannot share my pain with anyone who does not know exactly what it feels like. It is a lie when they say 'I know what you are going through' because grief and death is different for every person."

He raised his head to look at the ceiling.

"God, Our Father, if you cannot abate my pain, please alleviate it. I wish for nothing more than a sign you can hear my prayers."

He turned back to the crowd.

"I share this pain alone."

Seamus removed himself from the podium and sat back down. He kept silent the entire time until he was forced to stand back up to say goodbye one last time before they closed the casket. Amazing Grace was playing softly in the background as he was the first to walk up to the casket.

When he looked down, he saw his beautiful wife lying dead in a box. He struggled to a kneeling position and pressed his lips to the wood.

Staggering back up, he bowed grandly and departed. Once he sat back down, he could feel a little hand on his shoulder but he did not acknowledge it.

Once the farewells were finished, Seamus stood back up to drape the blanket over the casket. He did this alone, no family or friends with him. He smoothed the cloth down and walked behind the casket as it was wheeled out of the church.

More music was playing in the background and he was very aware of every pair of eyes on him. Everything else happened in a blur but he could not keep track of anything anymore nor did he even make an attempt.

Watching the casket being lowered into the ground would have let any sane person cry but Seamus could only stare at the hole in the ground and his beloved life being buried away under six feet of ground.

 _Oh, how he wished he could be buried beneath the ground beside her._

Seamus left without saying a word to anyone and apparated straight to the airport. He never understood why he found comfort in the airport but he did. He ordered a cup of chili with lemonade and sat down at one of the tables.

He typed out a quick message on his cellular device to one person.

 **TO: Dean Thomas (18:58):** Please answer, my friend. I need you here.

 **TO: Seamus Finnigan (18:59):** Tell me when and where, and I'll be there.

 **TO: Dean Thomas (19:00):** Airport and now.

 **TO: Seamus Finnigan (19:01):** I am already on my way.

Seamus typed out another message.

 **TO: Kaelyn Finnigan (19:02):** A penny for your thoughts?

Seamus never got an answer back so he typed out a message to another, one that made his heart beat like mad.

 **TO: Mattie Finnigan (19:07):** I am so sorry, Mattie. Your mother was right. I love you. Please come home.

Seamus was not expecting an answer so when he did receive one, he was shaking when he opened it.

 **TO: Seamus Finnigan (19:08):** I will come back. Not for you but for Mum.

 **TO: Mattie Finnigan (19:09):** That is all I ask of you, Mattie.

 **TO: Seamus Finnigan (19:10):** It's Mattieus to you. Mum was the only one I let call me Mattie.

 **TO: Mattie Finnigan (19:11):** Okay, Mattieus. For your mother.

Seamus set his phone down and started eating his chili. It was extremely well done but he could not enjoy the food when his stomach was threatening to expel whatever he put into it.

 **TO: Seamus Finnigan (19:15):** I love you.

Seamus smiled down at his phone and typed out a reply whilst tapping his nose.

 **TO: (19:16):** I love you.

 **TO: Seamus Finnigan (19:17):** I miss you.

 **TO: (19:18):** I miss you more.

 **TO: Seamus Finnigan (19:19):** I will always be here.

 **TO: (19:20):** And I will love you even in death.

Seamus looked down at his phone and blinked as soon as the elation wore off. He frowned as he looked at his phone.

That was impossible. Upon closer inspection, his heart steeled off and he put his phone down, screen hidden away.

 **TO: Kaelyn Finnigan (19:02):** A penny for your thoughts?

 **TO: Kaelyn Finnigan (19:15):** I love you.

 **TO: Kaelyn Finnigan (19:17):** I miss you.

 **TO: Kaelyn Finnigan (19:18):** I miss you more.

 **TO: Kaelyn Finnigan (19:19):** I will always be here.

 **TO: Kaelyn Finnigan (19:20):** And I will love you even in death.

It was a lie. Love does after death. But love only dies when one survives. Seamus discovered just how powerful words could be.

"Seamus?"

Seamus sat back and smiled up at Dean.

"A penny for your thoughts, Dean?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Heros In Severence**

 **A/N** : I own nothing. Not my house, or my car, or the lovely Seamus Finnigan. I don't even own Kaelyn even though I created her! Pathetic, I tell you! As always this was inspired by the many lives of Seamus and his soulmate, and I hope it shows once again just how much Seamus means to Kaelyn, for without him, she would be a ship lost at sea.

 **SUMMARY:** The article was a piece on powerful female influences of the 21st Century, and for some reason Kaelyn had been chosen. So when they asked her to pick her number one hero of all time to honor in the piece, all she could think of was her knight in shining armour; the man who had pulled her broken body from the rubble and loved her back to life...the man she intended to marry. The extradordinary, Seamus Finnigan.

* * *

Tuesday, 5th June, 2080 _should_ have been the worst day of Kaelyn's life; but it wasn't. That day _should_ have been the day she passed beyond the veil, crushed and broken under several tons of rubble; but she didn't. Instead, she was pulled from the brink by her gaurdian angel, lovingly pieced back together, and attended to while she was on the mend.

Ever since that tragic day almost three years ago, Kaelyn Grey had been hailed as a hero in her own right. Master Healer at St. Mungos, advocate for amputees and parapalegics in both the muggle and magical realms, and co-founder of the Freedom Foundation, a charity which provided prosthetics to those who could not afford them, Kaelyn Grey was best remembered for the day she charged head first into a collapsing building to try and save as many of her patients as she could.

An earthquake had come out of nowhere and had devastated 78 percent of London. Buildings were falling in on themselves and people lay dead and dying. Many people were trapped inside structurally unsound buildings with no way to get out, and no one to come to their aid, but the patients at St. Mungos had Healer Kaelyn Grey and her crew of three who had bravely volunteered to return to the building to search for survivors and attempt to drag them to safety.

The quartet had quickly searched and emptied three quarters of the building before the first of the aftershocks hit, sending the roof in the Reception Hall crashing down, and trapping the entire right side of Kaelyns body underneath it. She would stay buried there for three long, agonizingly painful days before someone, her boyfriend of just a few months, found her, and was able to call for help in extracating her.

Kaelyns injuries were severe to say the least. A massive concussion from falling debris, a gash to her forehead, extreme blood loss, hypothermia due to exposure, dust and debris in her lungs, a gash on her neck from the concrete slab that trapped her, various scrapes, bumps, and bruises, a shattered right pelvis, her left tibia broken, right lung bruised, nearly every rib crushed, a broken right clavicle, and her right arm mangled beyond repair just below the shoulder. No one expected her to make it, even with magic, but Seamus Finnigan swore to her, and to anyone that listened, he would save her, and save her he did.

In the end, no one had been able to save her arm, and so the painful decision had been made to amputate while she was in a coma, and to explain to her what had happened once she awoke. Seamus kept her induced in a coma for almost two weeks to ensure that she was physically healed before waking her, telling her the news, and holding her while she cried.

Kaelyn locked herself in her flat for a solid week, wallowing in her own self pity, before she realized that she was not the first person to be in this position. The love of her life was an amputee himself, having suffered a disarticulation of the hip when he was younger due to a tragic accident. Seamus was there for her as soon as she would let him in, holding her, and lifting her up; helping her with her physical therapy, and taking on the full duties of carer when she underwent the painful procedure of having her prosthesis fused to her shoulder socket so that she could once again have a fully functioning right arm.

It had taken her two months for her body to heal after that procedure, and another gruelling six months to get all her pieces working right, but Seamus had never left her, and, on several occasions, insisted she come first. He told her daily how beautiful she was, how inspiring she had been, how strong he found her. He loved every inch of her, human and robot alike, and told her as often as he could just how sexy he found her robotic arm. He even teased her from time to time by refering to her as his cyborg lover. She loved every minute of life with him, and cherished his presence, content in the knowledge that she was perhaps the luckiest woman alive to have been able to capture his attention so.

That following year she was promoted to the head of St. Mungos so that her now fiancee could take over operations at Holy Hill in Ireland, and was asked to collaborate on several magi-muggle medical enhancements which lead to her advocating for the use of more modern prothetics, and which ultimately caused her to fund her charity with said fiancee to ensure that no amputee would be required to go without proper equipment due to lower financial status. In the first year, Kaelyn bought six aparatuses out of her own money to ensure her patients had an outstanding quality of life.

Now three years on with her wedding rapidly approaching The Daily Prophet was running an entire section on the Three Most Inspirational Women of the 21st Century, and Kaelyn had been chosen. Much to her chagrin there would be a lengthy interview and photo shoot in which they were required to choose three seperate outfits on top of the uniform associated with their job. They were also asked to reflect on their influences and to choose one hero in their lives so that they could speak about them in the interview. That question made everything infinately easier for Kaelyn. Her hero...her rock...was Seamus. She loved him unconditionally, and he had been there and loved her at her absolute worst. In this article that honored her, she would honor him. She would pose in her Healers robes for her professional shot, but for her candid photos she would choose things that reflected the major influence in her life.

For her first outfit Kaelyn chose the dress she would be wed in as a symbol that even in the darkest of times, she had found her way. Seamus was the light to guide her. It was a vintage sleeveless lace number that hugged her curves in all the right places and flowed from the knees to a train. While it was true her entire apparatus was exposed, she now wore her cyborg arm with pride, as a symbol of her inner strength.

For her second outfit, Kaelyn chose to pose in Seamus' Master Healer robes from Holy Hill. Thankfully he had been on a business trip and had left his extra set hanging in the front closet, and so she had been able to borrow them without him being any the wiser. She wanted to surprise him with the article as an early wedding present.

Her final outfit was a simple tank top and a pair of lace bikini bottoms. When she had lost her arm, Seamus had went under the needle and gotten a massive sleeve tattooed from his knuckles, up the back of his hand, around his arm, up past his shoulder, and spiraling out to end at his clavicle, exactly where Kaelyn's prosthetic ended. In honor of his loss she had snuck and gotten a lion and a snake, waged in a war of fire and ice, tattooed from the top of her foot all the way to her hip bone. This would be the picture where she displayed her tribute for the world to see.

When the day came to conduct her interview, Kaelyn brought a team of stylists so that she would have a distinctly different look for each shot.

In one day she was professional, timeless, respectful, and enamoured. Each photo spoke so profoundly of the life she had lead, and the man who held her heart, that even the team from the Prophet had to take a moment to pause.

"Without Seamus, I am nothing," she had said, when asked why he had such a profound impact on her life.

"Above and beyond the oaths that he took when he became a Healer, Seamus Finnigan saves my life on a daily basis. He is the reason I get up in the morning. He is the reason I am here today. He is exactly the type of man I wish my son to be, and the type of man I wish my daughter to marry. Whatever may come, I know that I will love no other as I love Seamus Finnigan, and I know he feels the same for me."

The Prophet had cut Kaelyn a special edition so that she could present it to Seamus on the morning of their wedding with the other gift she had prepared for him. She could think of nothing better for the man she was dying to spend the rest of her life with.

Carefully she folded The Prophet around a sealed envelope and placed her letter to him on top before sending the package with her maid of honor to be delivered to her soul mate.

 _My Dearest Love,_

 _Although we have admittedly not been together long, I already feel as though I have known you my entire life, and I cannot wait to pledge the rest of said life to you. You are the light at the end of my darkest tunnel, and I only hope that in the coming years I can make you half as happy as you have made me. I am so honored that you have chosen me to be your wife, and I am humbled by the actions you take daily to become a better man than you were the day before in both your personal and professional life. I have thought long and hard about the gift I am to present you today, and I hope that the enclosed articles will suffice. Please know that everything I do, is inspired by you, and when asked who my greatest hero is, I chose you. I hope this article, and the pictures we chose, show just how very much you mean to me, and I hope that this is truly just the beginning for us._

 _All My Love,_

 _Kaelyn Grey._

 _P.S. You might want to sit down when you open the envelope love. I would hate for you to give yourself a concussion._

The entire article and all of Kaelyns pictures were enclosed in this special edition that she had had printed, everything in vivid color, and in said envelope was a sonogram of a tiny human being; the baby that she and Seamus had made together. Written on the back was only a date, ' _02/26/2084_ ' and the words ' _Dorian Byron Finnigan'._ On the third anniversary of what should have been the last day of Kaelyns life, her and her soon to be husband had made it possible to bring another life, a source of all of their hopes and dreams, the one thing countless doctors had told them they would never have, into this world, and here was physical proof that in just a few months time, the greatest gift that he could ever receive would be there every night to welcome him home. He could already hear a little voice whisper ' _Daddy_ ' in his ear.

So lost in thought was he that he didn't hear the knock on the door until his best man leaned in and asked if he were ready to go.

"It's time, Mate," said Dean Thomas, and for once, Seamus Finnigan could not wait to stand and wait.

 **The end.**


End file.
